


Warden Stories

by blarghe



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age Origins
Genre: Dragon Age - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Ficlet, M/M, Multi, Origin Stories, dragon age origins - Freeform, warden stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:34:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23683216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blarghe/pseuds/blarghe
Summary: I wrote out a brief history of my three completed DA:O playthroughs because I am a big, soft nerd full of love.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Alistair/Zevran Arainai, Zevran Arainai/Female Brosca, Zevran Arainai/Female Cousland, Zevran Arainai/Female Warden
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6
Collections: Dragon Age Den fic collection





	1. Violet Cousland

The youngest flower of the Cousland family is - just a little bit - thorny. She grew up with every privilege, learning writing and history from the finest tutors, and piano and violin from her mother’s favourite minstrels. She was a quick study of herbs, alchemy and mathematics, and loved the outdoors more than anything. She was also feisty, free-spirited and playful; loving to play pranks on her older brother which increased in their sophistication as the idyllic years of their childhoods went by. She loved to make others laugh, though as she grew older she found herself more often wishing to finally be taken seriously. As a result she could appear cocky, bold, and not a little bratty, especially to those who did not know her well. She was not slow to a fight, and she had won the argument with her father that secured the training with blades to back her challenges. Even so, Violet was altogether kind, and never sought fights without reason. 

Violet was well loved by her father. His “little pup”, he called her, and though he had been reluctant to let her learn, secretly he loved that she had taken to fighting with the same skill, if not more, as his older son. With her mother, however, her relationship was more tumultuous. Soon coming upon nineteen, Violet was of good age to marry, and often her mother reminded her that she needed to look away from her play with potions and weapons, and toward important battles: like winning a husband. Such seriousness of womanly duty was not something Violet took to, and for some time this refusal to give in to courtship was exacerbated by a secret relationship she held with one of the young workers in the estate’s gardens, a riotous elf of tiny stature and enormous laugh named Vanna. 

Violet and Vanna’s love was fantastic and short lived, beginning in early summer and ending with flair and ferocity in late fall that same year. During that summer, poorer crops led to tighter belts in elven households, and responsibilities fell to Vanna suddenly and without preparation. She grew tired of what she viewed as irresponsible and reckless attitudes in Violet, and jealous of her easy lifestyle, and they fought. In the end, Violet told Vanna in anger that she too, was one of her more irresponsible ventures, and the couple broke apart, knowing that neither could give the other what was needed. 

For a time after, Violet saw and dismissed in turn various suitors. Some, she saw for a while, developing perhaps a vague rapport or flirtation with a candidate only to eventually find some reason to deem him unworthy, or better yet, allowing him to find reason to lose interest in her. This infuriated her mother, but Violet was persistent, and would not give up her small touches of rebellion - hair dyed purple with lavender and blackberry tinctures, refusing corsets on all but the most formal occasions - for any man’s approval. 

When her father, the Teyrn, announced that he would be going with his son to Ostagar to join the King’s fight against the darkspawn, Violet begged to join. Her father though proud at the request, refused her thoroughly, and that evening Violet brooded over her potions and concoctions. She set a trap in her brother Fergus’ room, which sprayed him as he entered with a foul smelling gas that would stick to his clothes. When he charged out in anger to berate her, he found her ready and waiting for him - in the family’s training square, with her blades. They sparred, releasing the anger and anxiety of the news. Afterward, the two shared a drink of Violet’s own design while she ranted and raved to Fergus about their mother, and about their father's decision, and Fergus listened.

Fergus always listened. The siblings shared everything, whether it be Fergus confiding his fears in Violet when his son was born, or Violet complaining to him of the persistence of their mother. He even knew about Vanna, he found the affair ridiculous, but he knew. And when it had ended, he had been there, without judgement. 

Fergus told Violet that he was proud of her, and he gave her his family ring, an heirloom from their father, having her promise that it would yet go to his son, should he not return from Ostagar. Violet took it and promised it would, and she tried very hard not to reveal her tears as she did. 

When Duncan came to the Cousland estate Violet was eager to investigate, and possibly even negotiate with, the experienced looking warrior. She took an immediate liking to his humour, and he noticed the glint in her eye. 

Then, Violet’s whole world is overturned. Arl Howe’s men attack the estate, slaughtering her family. The sight of her brother’s wife and young son dead and bloodied in their chambers is branded into her mind with indelible detail. Violet loses everything in one frenzied night, and the night turns to day, and somehow she is on a horse headed to Ostagar, seething in shock and rage as Duncan explains war schemes and battle histories to her that days ago she would have revelled in, but which she now has trouble hearing at all. Faithfully, her dog Merry follows, and from that day on he never leaves Violet’s side. 

At Ostagar she meets Alistair, and impossibly soon after the last, tragedy strikes again. The Wardens are betrayed, Duncan killed, and she and Alistair become two new soldiers in exile together, members of an order they barely know, yet faced with its entire defense, and the fate of the world, for added measure. 

They work together with Morrigan, a witch whom Violet is compelled by, but Alistair distrusts. Yet the dynamic works, and added to it are Sten, a strange and fearsome Qunari warrior, Leliana the somewhat…insane bard-turned-Chantry sister turned bard for a second time, Zevran, an assassin who becomes the fiercest of friends, Oghren the crass dwarf, and Wynne, a motherly - and strong - mage who takes to Violet whether Violet is accepting of her care or not. 

All of these relationships become significant in their own ways, but none as much as her ties to Alistair Thierin. He is lost, like her, in over his head and loose in the wide world for the first time in his short life. Heavy responsibilities lie between them both, and they share that load as partners from the start. Often he defers to her judgement, takes an unasked step back for her leadership, and prompts her to make the final calls, yet she would not make a choice without his say, and frequently they discuss the perils they must face to achieve victory together, long into the night. Alistair is bright and playful, he comes to friendship innocently, and laughs even at the darkest of times. Violet finds that he reminds her of who she was, before the life she knew had ended, and before long she finds that she is becoming like herself again; that she can smile, and he can make her. 

Zevran, too, becomes a close companion. Finding her spirit again, Violet delights in flirting with both the easily-flustered Templar and the more sporting rogue. Violet loves also Zevran’s tales of espionage and assassination, and together they fawn over poisons and deadly traps. She learns more of the crow’s past in time, and he understands her darkest fantasies of vengeance. The two form a bond that will remain unbroken, no matter what adventures await them at the end of the long journey. 

Over the year spent fighting the blight Violet matures, and the loss of her family changes her, steeling her heart and defining her character with a scar that will never stop aching. But she also spends the year clawing her way back from a pit of despair, finding hope in the unassuming places, and love and loyalty with misfits and goofballs, exiles and heretics. Her heart warms again, and Alistair feels safe, loving, reliable - he becomes stronger from knowing her, from how she pushes him. They are happy together, and together they bring laughter to the camp in the evenings, even from Morrigan. Leliana sings again, and Violet’s interest in tales of daring returns. In time, Wynne begins to feel more and more like a mother to her, and in still more time, that fact begins to hurt less, and help more. 

Before long, Alistair confesses his birthright to her: that he would be the last remaining heir of the line of the King, though he claims the lineage to be insignificant; as both a Warden and an illegitimate, secret child, he can hold no power - nor does he want to. Yet it comes to pass that his challenge is viable, and with hearts that are now heavier with the understanding of duty and responsibility, Alistair and Violet decide to fight for the throne together. She vows to him to stand by his side, no matter his final decision, and he takes up the mantle of the King with his own action, slaying Loghain for the treason and grief that he wrought. Alistair wastes no time in choosing Violet for his Queen, and the union meets little resistance, though some wonder if either party will arrive from the battlefield to make their coronations. 

Before the battle, Morrigan tells Violet of the ritual needed to secure both her and her future King’s lives; a dark magic, resulting in a child that Morrigan would steal away in secret, and raise alone. By now, Morrigan and Violet have become close, after a fashion. Violet will never agree with Morrigan’s selfishness, her ruthless pursuit of personal strength, but she understands it - the failure to protect those she loved most sparking her own fiery desire to be better, stronger, smarter than any enemy. There is a respect between them, and Morrigan finds, despite her best efforts, that Violet makes her laugh, and that being cared for as a friend can be strengthening too, in its own way. So, when Morrigan tells Violet of what must be done, Violet trusts her, and though Alistair is not thrilled at the prospect, he will do whatever must be done for the one he loves. Besides, Morrigan and Alistair do not hate each other quite so much as they once did, Morrigan finding that Violet somehow makes the imbecile tolerable, and Alistair has had enough peeks at Morrigan’s soft underbelly to understand that her heart is not so cold as she wants it to appear, and he uses this knowledge as ammunition whenever he can. 

So it is done, and the Wardens win the day for Ferelden and the world, though not without wreckage and loss. In one unexpected blessing of fate, Violet learns of her brother’s survival of the battle at Ostagar. She returns to him all that she could keep; his wife’s wedding ring, and a drawing from his son. She tries also to return the heirloom, but her brother insists that she keep it; he will be having no more sons. With her family’s house renewed, and their estate at Highever restored, Violet takes the crown alongside Alistair, the King. 

Alistair and Violet wed in the fall, and the ceremony is quick and intimate, a fact that invites scorn from some more austere families, which goes ignored. The wedding is also one of the last times that all members of the unlikely party are together. Leliana embarks on her travels, and Ferelden is assured to always have peace with the Qunari so long as Sten remains Arishok in Par Vollen. Oghren tries again with an old flame, to varying results, and eventually joins the order as a Warden. Morrigan disappears in silence, as she said she would, and Zevran swears an oath of his own to both Violet and Alistair, who each now occupy places in his heart that he did not know were waiting. The rogue returns to his dastardly work, but he visits often, and when he does he shares a room with the couple, behind the closed doors of which a beautiful relationship continues in secret, as it may. It is rumoured that an entire division of the Antivan Crows forms to keep those that might exploit or twist this love story to besmirch the crown from retaining life. Zevran has been known as well to join the King in hunting expeditions, and to provide support to the Warden Commander Queen on her own quests. 

Alistair remains, however, Violet’s closest love. They rule Ferelden through peace and restoration together, improving life for the elves in their borders, granting increased freedoms to the mages, and keeping the greed of noble houses firmly in check. And they are happy. Looking upon her life in Denerim, Violet finds that her scarred heart is full. With her loves she can still have laughter and adventure, and while much of Zevran’s part is kept secret, all three frequently find ways to break the rules of etiquette together, remaining still free-spirited and bold. Violet carries in her also an endlessly dark grief, for the faces of her lost family - especially that of small, innocent Orin - haunt her even as years go by. But then, Alistair understands that, as well. 

They want for nothing, except, of course, for more time. And, more quietly, in prayers to the Maker and sad talks at late hours, they wish for a child. These things push Violet to embark upon one last quest. Taking Merry, she wishes her King farewell, and he promises to keep the kingdom together as best as he can, without her. Alistair keeps the throne with surety, though he is duller without his Queen. Zevran visits more often in her absence, but both feel heavier without her laughter in the halls. All who know the King know that his heart is doubtless in belief that Violet will return. He knows that they will spend the rest of their days happily together, raising up all that they saved. 


	2. Talani Surana

Born to a small farm in the stretch of open country just outside the borders of Lothering, Talani Surana never knew her father, and she did not know her mother for very long. She remembers little of her life before the Circle, though the smells of hay filled barns and dusty chicken coops still bring her flashes of a face marked in intricate patterns like trees, or constellations. She cannot remember which god the tattoos represented, but she remembers taking charcoal to her own face as a child, thinking it pretty. Talani’s mother never told her of the Dalish elves and their traditions, nor did she explain to her young daughter why she left the people who had marked her face, or why it was only the two of them left to tend to the small farm. 

Talani was taken to the Circle because that is what is done, when a mage is discovered - no matter how much her mother may need her help to keep her livelihood, and exceptions are certainly not made for poor elves. 

She doesn’t remember much about those early days. She remembers the boat to the tower - being amazed and nervous, her first time out on open water. And she remembers how the tower looked, looming against a sullen grey sky; how its heavy stonework and isolation at the centre of the large lake felt threatening. 

Talani hated the Circle. She hated being told how to dress, and she hated keeping rigid postures and taking complicated notes. She hated the walls, and the tiny windows with their solid glass and metal bars, and she hated the menacing crashing of waves on the rocks below. She found solace in books, reading obsessively about the Dalish elves in their nomadic clans, and about the feats of famous mages at court in Orlais, of Dwarven battle heroes, and even the holy Mother Andraste - though she resisted the Chantry’s insistence of conforming to service and the keeping of prayers. 

Books taught Talani that the world was vast, and full of people both wonderful and cruel, but most importantly people that were like her - with passions and fears, loves and frustrations. The tower’s books were restricted, and heavy in rhetoric, but they provided a picture of the world and its history, written by righteous Andrastian victors or not. Mages had not always been treated as they were now, and even when they were, the stories of great sorcerers throughout the ages ignited in Talani an inspiration that it is certain the Chantry sages who selected the library’s contents did not intend. For to Talani, even the Chant held secret hope: Shartan rising up against the Tevinter masters, and Andraste herself who burned at the stake for the Maker’s truth, spoke to her as stories of the triumph of freedom, light, the goodness of people. She desperately wanted to see it; the people and places of the world, good and bad. 

Talani kept her spirits up in this oppressive place with friends, too. She was always on the cusp of a smile, and took to conversations with enthusiasm. While her frustrations with life under guard could sometimes fester, she was rarely without bounce in her step, and over time she shifted much of her angry energy into a sort that could welcome and energize new, scared apprentices to the circle. Some of her friends were rebellious, though for the most part only to the point of skipping out of enchantment classes and mild sabotage in the rooms of Templars. She was lucky, in her time at the Circle, that most of the Templars were more tiresome than they were cruel; according to those who transferred to the tower from elsewhere in the kingdom, this is not always the case. Even still, there were some who took to power too confidently, and abused it, and indeed this trend seemed to be growing. Through the combined efforts of Talani, her friends, and some of the older, more political mages, watch was kept on the Templars in a way that was not so different from how the Templars kept watch on them, though it was quieter. Templars that hurt mages soon saw retribution themselves, though as the mages were without much power, retaliations came through nonlethal and strategic means; but they were effective. 

Talani, despite her restlessness, or perhaps because of it, finds friendship easily in others, even unexpectedly. The Templar Cullen was an odd acquaintance, and his interest in her went unrequited, yet she had no hate for the man, and they even shared in games of chess from time to time. So when her old trusted compatriot, a brooding dark-haired mage named Jowan, confided in her after her Harrowing that he had been secretly seeing a Chantry sister in the tower, she was surprised, but quick to accept it. People were just people, after all. 

Talani agreed to help with the foolhardy plan in a heartbeat. And when things quickly became more dangerous and more serious than she expected, she continued undaunted. She was, and would remain, the type to see any action she took in good intent through to its bitter end - so long as its ends were just. In the end of this ordeal, Duncan saved her from a fate worse than death, and for that Talani was immediately indebted with gratitude. 

So it is that she rides with him eagerly to Ostagar, still in disbelief that her life should so suddenly be swept out from under her - like a character in one of her books. But the road is hard, and in that battle she sees more death and blood than she could have ever envisioned, no matter how many accounts of war she had read in the tower. 

Alistair keeps her together from the very beginning. She sees him for the first time, a tall, silver-armoured man arguing with a Circle mage, and worries that the cold will of the tower will follow her wherever she goes - ten seconds later, she is hearing him ribbing sarcastically, and she is laughing before the knight can even give her his name. Alistair loves her from the moment he first hears her laughing. 

She names the Mabari war hound she saved Griffon, after the stories, and sets to work on saving the world. Leliana adores her plucky energy, joining the party as an instant friend. The dark apostate, Morrigan, takes longer to win over, but eventually she begins to admire Talani - not because of her goodheartedness, but because somehow even though she approaches every problem with foolish optimism, through pure tenacity her good intentions seem always come to fruition. Relentless love and good cheer from the impossible young woman wear through Morrigan’s thick skin in time, and in friendship with Talani she softens - ever so slightly. 

Talani takes victories under review, and losses deeply to heart. She spares as many lives as she possibly can, including the unfortunate assassin Zevran. While she finds his romantic posturing repelling, she enjoys his hidden sensitivity, and his worldly jokes. Oghren the Dwarf she is determined to set straight even if it kills her, and for the most part she does. Shale appreciates her, for she can appreciate her glorious adornments, and Sten balks at her cheer and rebuffs her incessant questions until she impresses him with perfect battle strategy and cookies. Then, he indulges her recording of all the aphorisms he has to offer, and allows himself the occasional smile. 

Wynne, to Talani, represents at first all that she has ever wanted to be _away_ from. In the beginning they argue often. Wynne doesn’t see the fall of the tower as the inevitable catastrophe of oppression that Talani understands it to be, and she mourns too much for something that was broken before it fell. The Circle and Templars, she determines in hasty anger after the fight with Uldred is at last hard won, deserved all they got. But she lost friends, too, and in the aftermath of the Circle’s destruction, Talani’s dreams turn to the happy days that were etched out in the tower’s stone whenever they could find the freedom; late night pillow fights in dorm rooms, potions that brought about euphoric laughter, reading long into the evening as the sound of rain fell heavily upon thick glass windows. She talks to Wynne, finally, in hushed and shaking words after the fire has turned to only embers, and Wynne pulls her into an embrace like the Chantry sisters used to, when she was a child. 

Alistair’s love for Talani is steadfast. He struggles to talk to her, at first, because she is pretty and whip-smart and laughs at _every single one_ of his jokes - even the very bad ones! She swoons when he gives her a rose, though she does her best to be graceful. In truth, she has never felt so drawn to anyone, and she marvels often at all the light she has found while the world seems to be going into darkness. Leliana calls this light the work of the Maker, a claim that Talani resists, but she does wonder. Some things are just too serendipitous to be pure chance. 

When Alistair tells Talani about his royal parentage, she is not surprised to find her prince a _literal_ prince, but she is disappointed. She encourages him to take to his duty, strengthening him as she has at every turn to fulfil his potential. It is because of this strength that he has found with her that Alistair refuses, leaving the rule of Ferelden to the daughter of Loghain - the very war criminal whose actions had sent them into exile. But the Duchess Anora is tactical, and not unsuited to rule. Loghain is killed for his crimes, and in time Anora will prove a fair queen.

Morrigan tells Talani about the dark ritual with sensitivity, a rare consideration for the witch, but one she will make because of how deeply she cares for her found-sister. Talani agrees unhappily, feeling embarrassed by her jealousy that she cannot perform the magic herself. Alistair, too, takes to the ritual with little enthusiasm, but it is done, and when he returns to her they hold one another closely through the rest of the long night. 

Talani fights in the battle against the Archdemon with strength given to her through ancient Elven arts, and ever after is renowned as the Warden Battle Mage of Ferelden. Statues of her are built high in shining bronze and silver, brandishing her enchanted broadsword and Griffon wing shield. After the dust has settled, she takes up her title of Warden Commander and she and Alistair leave the city together, ready to rebuild the Warden order at each other’s sides. 

After years spent working to empower the Wardens and building an active but stable life for themselves in Vigil’s Keep, Talani finally makes headway in the research she began as soon as the blight had ended: a cure for the calling - that evil curse which puts a short time limit on the life of a Warden. She embarks to find answers, promising to write letters every day. Griffon, who is more a friend to Alistair than any human, stays behind - to keep him out of trouble. Talani makes good on her promise for a while, and letters arrive at the keep frequently. But as new threats break upon the world, Alistair is forced out into exile once again, and contact is lost. But he knows that she is out there, and that she is safe; Griffon would tell him otherwise, a Mabari knows. 


	3. Kali Broska

If it was supposed to be spelled “Brosca”, Kali didn’t know, and she didn’t care. Kali was a casteless dwarven woman (whether you liked it or not, yes, she was a woman), with two fists that were made for three things: fighting, drinking, and more fighting. She spent her entire life acting as the support of her small family, broken as it was. While she provided the money and food, her mother drank her days away unhappily cursing her children for all they didn’t accomplish, and her father, long dead, had left his daughters with nothing but gambling debts. 

The only person in the world Kali trusted in her life before the Blight was her sister, Rica. Rica had charms that Kali didn’t, and she could win the hearts of even noble men with smiles and pleasant words. Kali supported her sister in her attempts to marry up, and never minded that her own line of work was more brutal, while her sister had to stay focused on her appeal - in fact, she preferred things that way. Rica was safe, and she was free to let her fists do the talking most of the time, which suited her fine. 

Apart from Rica, Kali had one close friend in her brother-in-crime, Leske. They weren’t exactly affectionate, but the dwarf had saved her skin more than once in a close fight, and she had many times done the same in return. Life in the slums of Dustown is unforgiving, and no friendships are made that can outlast all that Orzammar can throw at a casteless duster, and all told Kali would still say that she only trusted Leske as far as she could throw him, but, she wagered, that was probably pretty far. 

When a job for her Carta boss went south and Kali was forced into exile, her only real thought was to her sister, Rica. With a heavy heart she left Orzammar to join the Wardens, ready to fight darkspawn for as long as the surface days were long, but occupied all the time with thoughts of her sister. Rica had assured her that prospects with a promising noble house were very good, and that she would be made of noble caste within no time, but Kali hated to leave her with nothing to fall back on. She vowed, somehow, to come into cash enough to help her sister, as soon as the ritual and battle at Ostagar were over. 

But things did not go as planned, and long months of fighting darkspawn, werewolves, and demons went by before she could return to Orzammar. Upon returning, she found that her fears had in fact been unwarranted, and her sister was - as promised - poised to marry into nobility - royalty, even! Though the progression of the line was being challenged. Kali had never had any love for the royal ruling class of Orzammar, few dusters did, but this young prince promised progress for the low classes and the casteless, and moreover her sister’s fate mattered above any political jabber. So Kali ran the prince’s errands, feeling little different than she did running errands for the Carta, and doing so brought her again face to face with Leske. 

When Leske betrayed her, she was angry, but not surprised. While she had been gathering forces against a blight, her old compatriot had been working his way out of imprisonment, climbing the ladder of hard jobs back to a place where coin could be gotten, and she could not blame him for that. She did kill him though, taking his head in battle with furious skill. 

Of all the wonders of the surface world, the animals were Kali’s favourite. In Dustown there are only nugs, bugs, and the occasional panic of a stray darkspawn that breaks through the Deep Road defences. But in the forests of Ferelden there were wolves, bears, even sometimes wild cats. She took on a canine companion, whom she called Kallack - war - and allowed, with bemusement, for the elf-assassin she took to her ranks to continually attempt to impress her with his command of and friendship with various creatures. 

Kali enjoyed the attention from the Assassin, and she found unlikely friendship in the Warden Alistair, as well. The kid was new to battle, and unfamiliar with death, but he had a warrior's heart and the right sort of spirit to share a drink with, and that led into friendship fair enough. 

Leliana, she struggled to understand. The bard was kind, and impossibly sweet, but a little mad and sometimes _too_ soft. Still, Kali grew to trust her like another sister, and she said the same of Morrigan, the witch, in short time. Morrigan was strong, like Kali, and determined in her aims. Kali admired her and consulted with her often, finding her opinions and guidance valuable as she fought to gain respect in the humans’ world. With the help of Morrigan’s shapeshifting magic, Kali’s body was bound in the form it should have been, all along, and the process gave her a peace she had never expected to receive. It was dark magic, perhaps, and Wynne disapproved, but Kali could tell little difference, and generally found that Wynne fretted too much, and asked her to wax philosophical much more than was warranted. 

Kali was a woman of few words, she fumbled with writing or responding to letters, and read few books. She could not tell you if Leliana’s songs were worthy of Orlesian courts, nor whether Zevran’s poetry would be considered trite by scholars of such things, but she had no reason to care: to her, these were the finest arts in all the world, and she loved them. 

So it was with Kali, her affections were hard-won, but once you had them, they were hard-lost as well. Zevran flattered her, and she began her relationship with him on a thoughtless whim; a pretty thing to warm her bedroll, as he would say. But he strove ever to impress her, and soon, he did. He did not win her heart with his fighting skill, something which Kali admired but could certainly best in contest, but in the way that he could speak in soft rhythms while she simply listened, him never demanding more. And she loved him for the way he understood her life - what it had meant to grow up casteless and penniless, trapped below ground doing dirty work for dirty dealers, without her having to explain any of it. He called her beautiful, stringing together three words that she had never heard woven for her before, and he did so often. 

When Morrigan came to her it was with concern, for she knew that Kali would be stubborn and unwilling to dictate choices over Alistair’s body or bed; Alistair naturally asked what she would have him do, and she was honest. By that time Alistair had learned to trust Kali’s leadership, and would have followed her into any insane plan, but Alistair had earned her respect in return, and she had arranged with difficulty for his rule over Ferelden after the battle was ended - a deal made with Anora that Alistair took reluctantly, but with dignity nonetheless. That same dignity she offered Alistair on the eve of battle, telling him to choose of his own volition, and he elected to fight without tricks, fully expecting that if there would be a price to pay, he would beat her to the paying of it. 

Kali fought with sword and axe, having learned the art of channelling her anger from the mighty dwarf fighters of the deep roads, and the skills of a champion from her kindred companion, Sten. She was a whirlwind of force in a battle, taking on large and brutish darkspawn without fear, and slaying beasts and evil spirits until her armour ran red with blood. When the dragon came down upon the Wardens on the rooftop, Alistair could not keep his fearsome friend from the fight, and she leapt atop the monster’s back and slew it, relinquishing her soul as she did. 

Zevran was not the same after Kali’s death. He wandered back into a life of contract killing and misbehaviour, but with less lightness in his step, and no more evenings filled with poetry. In her final farewell to her bewildered lover, she told Zevran in her own way of how full he had made her heart, how special he had made her feel, how light and happy and full of tingling feeling and deep love; how his love had changed her, shown her a goodness in the world she hadn’t thought to find, guided her through challenges on the surface that in her whole lowly life, she had never dreamed she might face - oh, that she did not have to face those things alone! All of this, she spoke directly into the heart of the reformed Crow with her own three words: “I love you.” She told him, and the two exchanged rings under the stars together, alone and perfect, in a ceremony of their own design - with poetry and love making, and the knowledge that their souls would be forever bonded.

Zevran always knew that his beautiful Warden might be taken from him in the end, and he had spent much of his time with her desperately trying to cling to the strength to accept it. But, when that time finally came, that strength failed him, and he took little comfort for a very long time. And even as in time he found new adventures to entertain him, never again did he love, for there were none who could compare, and he wore Kali’s ring until the end of his days. 


End file.
